They lay like plaited bread in love…
Kneading those white buttocks
Back and forth, in greedy palms
Stretching over doughy flesh
He then holds her warm breasts
There rising indicates
The ovens warmth is intensifying
Moister starts to perspire!
Drip by drip, down, plaited hair.
Seconds are vacating minutes.
Minutes untangling hours…
Legs are made jelly…
And empty of all desires 'ostrigidity'.
They lay like plaited bread in love.
poem by Mark Heathcote
Added by Poetry Lover
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